POLLYANNA
"Keerful, now, Nancy!" interrupted the old man, with a slow grin. "You know what you said when I told ye she was handsome once."
Nancy shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, she ain't handsome, of course; but I will own up she don't look like the same woman, what with the ribbons an' lace jiggers Miss Pollyanna makes her wear 'round her neck."
"I told ye so," nodded the man. "I told ye she wa'n't—old."
Nancy laughed.
"Well, I'll own up she hain't got quite so good an imitation of it—as she did have, 'fore Miss Pollyanna come. Say, Mr. Tom, who was her lover? I hain't found that out, yet; I hain't, I hain't!"
"Hain't ye?" asked the old man, with an odd look on his face. "Well, I guess ye won't then—from me."
"Oh, Mr. Tom, come on, now," wheedled the girl. "Ye see, there ain't many folks here that I can ask."
"Maybe not. But there's one, anyhow, that ain't answerin'," grinned Old Tom. Then, abruptly, the light died from his eyes. "How is she, ter-day—the little gal?"
Nancy shook her head. Her face, too, had sobered.
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